Miscellany
by DarkSlayer84
Summary: Baraka, Mileena, and a hundred and fifty instants between them. Rated for innuendo, blood, and blood imagery. R&R welcome.
1. His: 1 to 5

_**His**_

DarkSlayer84

**Notes and Disclaimer: **Mortal Kombat and everything related to it belongs to Midway Ent. Ltd. and Ed Boon. I'm not making any money from this and just having fun; lawsuits suck. Alterations and original concepts, where they appear, are mine. Be kind, rewind. Winners don't do drugs. And if you're still reading this, stop.

**#01 - Blend**

With the helmet over his face, he's just another guard--until his nose begins to itch.

**#02 - Stain**

The bandages dried the color of rust, the same as the pallet beneath him, and when he stood the pain was so bad he nearly considered retirement.

**#03 - Island**

The trees hiss and sway, and the air stinks of salt, and all this talk of tourneys is giving him a headache; he bows to the sorcerer and waits for his orders.

**#04 - Apple**

He knows it's inedible, just from the smell, but it's such a rich color, and so smooth and soft in his hand.

**#05 - Paper **

It's always worst when it's blank; he never knows what to put.


	2. His: 6 to 10

**#06 - Relax**

When the serving girl flees--she nearly threw the tea down--and the door is shut at last, he props aching feet on the gods'-cursed desk and contemplates a nap.

**#07 - Leaves**

They're fascinating: they start out green and flare to brilliant crimson life, then curl away and die, crunching underfoot, always to return the next spring.

**#08 - Proof **

All he has to do is scowl at them, most of the time; they all remember why he's General.

**#09 - Ugly**

He's never paid attention to that word--it's never come out of the mouth of anyone good-looking.

**#10 - Book**

It took more time and more money, and even more bribery, but the binder was good on his word, and here at last is an unabridged copy of _Falsten and the Bandit King_ in his own tongue.


	3. His: 11 to 15

#**11 - Brood**

He watches the children tear through the streets, keening with laughter, their tiny white teeth all bared in smiles, and he thinks uneasily of locusts.

**#12 - Mesh**

White and rough, red and rougher, coarse and gritty and too tight, too stiffly starched--everything about this new uniform is uncomfortable.

**#13 - Soft**

If they knew he'd traded his linen coverlet for a silk one, if they knew he'd switched his _gith_ for tea, if they even suspected he'd learned the proper use of a dessert spoon--well, they'd have only one word for him, then.

**#14 - Shelf**

Scrolls, compass, tinderbox, quill, and the lacquer tray with its damnable endless ever-changing paperwork; his personal effects are much better hidden, and stored elsewhere.

**#15 - Alone **

Every day he spends behind these walls seeps into his bones a little deeper, eats him away a moment at a time.


	4. His: 16 to 20

_**His**_

DarkSlayer84

**#16 - Fall **

And just before he hits the ground he hears her scream.

**#17 - Knot**

His throat won't open around the lump in it; he coughs and asks the family if they have a minute, if they'd like to sit down, keeping the parchment behind his back so they can't yet see the names of their children.

**#18 - Crowd**

They follow him in little gaggles now, crowing inanities and wiggling their blouses open; he's come to dread market day.

**#19 - Denial**

She's petty and pretty and pampered and too old for him—not his type at all.

**#20 - Train**

The majors are goggling at him, openmouthed, and he works very hard to be solemn—that technique was so _easy,_ only a weakling would need much practice at it—but they're never kind when he laughs.


	5. His: 21 to 25

_**His**_

DarkSlayer84

**#21 - Fur**

It nearly keeps the cold out, thick and dark and sleek, and he wonders if its first owner had teeth and claws like his.

**#22 - Chrome **

Just one more of Earth's little puzzles—it peeled away like paper and cut his hand when he crumpled it in his fingers.

**#23 - Heart**

When she hits the sand and stays there, unmoving, motionless as the crowd screams for blood, something clutches in his chest and turns over, making him see red.

**#24 - Intention**

He bows low, smiling, thinking of how nice it would be to sit up there in that throne himself.

**#25 - Push **

They're all watching, and it's just one more—he grits his teeth, sweat scorching his eyes, and tries for a smile as his chin clears the bar.


End file.
